Sideshow's Super Megafarce
by Zarius
Summary: Sideshow Bob decides to creatively meddle with Krusty's cheaply made superhero show. Bart learns of the online presence for the show and wonders just how far some fans are willing to go to criticize or apologize for the show's faults and learns what makes a "true" fan. Meanwhile, Lisa takes Ralph in when he decides to skip lunch at School
1. Chapter 1

**THE SIMPSONS:**

**SIDESHOW'S SUPER MEGAFARCE**

**WRITTEN BY ZARIUS**

**Disclaimer: The Simpsons are trademarked by FOX. **

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:**

For the smug, satisfied members of the prison security unit, Springfield penitentiary seemed to be filling up nicely. For the condemned, stirring conflicted prisoners, it was a different matter altogether. The full house made for unbearable company.

Sharing prison cells, bunk beds, their books, their weights, and even the paper which they would send out their blood-soaked death threats, the quality of life for those having to _endure_ life terms had dropped considerably.

Listening to complaints from the prisoners, and to hold off any real lingering physical or mental tension, the wardens had elected to take the restrictions off of the luxuries exclusive to the more privileged and well behaved prisoners, and permitted each and every cell to have a television. Provided they only watch basic public access and the local fodder, for "educational and cultural purposes"

More riots were caused by this in the span of only a few hours.

Chaos, however, was a divine melody to the ears of one 'Sideshow' Bob Twerwilliger, who was trying to wrap his head around a stand-up comedy session by British comedian Stewart Lee

"He's making a lot of fuss about being in bed with his socks on, dear god, does he know how mundane he's being?" Bob asked Snake, his cell mate

"It's like, part of his game plan dude" said Snake, who was filing his fingers, "Wrap the audience around his wrist and see how long it takes for the rubber band to snap"

"Yesterday there was one session where he talked at length about pick'n'mix and how modern sweets are made of daggers. He's picking on very niche things and adding something crass to create the illusion of stimulated self-deprecation, instilling the same sense in the audience who then think they're drifting thoughts are justified"

"Yeah dude, he's like, totally mocking them"

"This is GOLD isn't it? All they ever show is comedies, from the basic to the irreverent. And to add to that, it's a British channel, why are we getting British channels?"

"That'll be because the Warden's heard about the referendum" said a passing prison guard, "He reckons these here United States could plug the gap in case Scotland tries again in five or so years, it's really no better than packing up supplies in case the world ends"

"So he stacks up on the channels of a particular culture and filters them into our brains like we're just going to fall in line and embrace another island? That's good grounds for this weekend's riots. I can't be the only one thinking this"

"Yeah, well, now that you've told me about it, it gives us all the time to prep, so maybe you should have sat on those thoughts?" the officer replied

"A thought should only serve to stir you into expressing what you believe is the basic truth. Never waste a moment letting people know what you think" replied Bob.

"Question, when is that episode of Krusaders on?" asked Snake

The officer checked his watch, "Time enough for that"

"Time enough?" said Bob

"The time when the warden reckons enough is enough as far as the tension goes" the officer continued

"Then you'd best advise him there's a riot stirring" said Bob.

"Don't you mean a thought?" said the Officer

"It has occurred to me, the alternative will occur to him" said Bob

"Then I guess it's show time" said the officer, and departed to converse with the warden

"Krusaders?" said Bob, puzzled as to what Snake meant

"That new show Krusty uses as a fill-in on his show. Networks are trying to ride the wave of momentum those Aqua Bat fellas are having, mixing it in with a few shows from Japan" Snake explained

"There's still a market for that?" said Bob.

"Totally, there's even movies coming out based off of the bigger successes from the era it kick-started off in"

"Interesting, I might give this a go then"

Sure enough, when the time came to watch the show, Bob was in full nit-picking mode.

The scene was set. Krusty, decked out in a rather unaccommodating blue and gold gymnasts' outfit, encircled by Sideshow Mel and at least three high-heeled and slender looking women in similar uniforms, talking to an as yet-unseen-monster. Bob was already put off by the clunky dialogue evident in the script.

"Retire you knave, Only the brave and pure come inside this circle" snapped Sideshow Mel

"Only good inside" repeated the warrior women

"The subtext in this isn't remotely subtle" Bob expressed, "That right there is pandering to Tumblr"

The action commenced as the warriors battled a monster that clearly was separate in footage than what had just been shown on the screen

"That transition was sloppy" he said as the show switched from U.S to Japanese footage as one of Krusty's warriors sprung into the air and dropped a fateful roundhouse kick to the temple of the monster, only the woman now looked completely different.

The more the battle went on and the transitions seemed to lazily shift from one to the other, Bob paid closer attention to the slip-ups in dubbing

"BATTLE CRY" yelled the warriors in unison.

"What actually IS their battle cry? That can't possibly be it" said Bob

"I think it's something like "Never surrender, young Krusaders"

"So the writer of the ADR script couldn't even keep track of episodes where they proclaimed their actual cry. Points deducted for lack of attention-to-detail"

As the episode concluded, and Krusty's team proved victorious. They ended the story on one of the female leads subjecting her team to her atrocious cooking. As the credits rolled following a tediously predictable group laugh at her expense, the _recipe_ for the atrocious concoction appeared in a side-box that caused one half of the screen to compress so the audience couldn't even see who did what on the show.

"What a farce that was" said Bob, "Back when I was Sideshowing for that clownish klutz, I had a hands-on approach to editing, tightening of dialogue, all sorts of nuanced approaches to delivering a tighter and more professional sketch-based form of entertainment. I could make that show incredibly pacey and more than just a copy-and-paste hatchet translation job"

"Are you like, having thoughts again man?"

"Thoughts stir you. And in my case, Snake, I find they are stirring me into action"

As Bob said this, the prison bars suddenly slid open, the alarm went off, and thousands of prisoners marched across the place, carrying with them helpless, tied and bound officers, desks, chairs.

A full on riot was commencing. As Bob had predicted with impeccable timing.

"Purchase as many supplies as you can Snake my friend, the like-minded, and not the British, are coming" Bob remarked, whistling to himself as he jumped into the maddening crowd and relaxed as the crowd surfed him out of the prison and on to freedom


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

The door to Lisa's bedroom was creaking. Meaning, to avoid having to open it altogether and run the risk of waking his little sister up, Bart had to suck in his tummy and slip as far as he could through the available opening.

He gazed at the laptop to the far left of him, perched perfectly to the right hand side of Lisa's desk, now that he was in, what had to occur next was perfectly pitched tip-toeing.

One step gingerly transitioned to two, then to three, with each tread, the pacing picked up, and Bart sped towards the laptop.

As he placed both hands on it, the lamp on the dresser next to Lisa's bed lit up. Bart hissed like a cat at it. Lisa stirred, raised her head, sneezed a good few times, then rubbed her eyes and gazed at the would-be thief

"Bart, what are you doing with that?" she said, before sneezing again

"Ease your nostrils sis, I'm just trying to latch on to the laptop for a couple of free minutes"

"Use your own computer"

"I can't, it's riddled with spy wear. I don't look that fancy in a Bond tuxedo"

"Bart, I think you might not exactly know what spy**ware **is" Lisa replied, "Which, at this stage of the World Wide Web's relevancy, really is perplexingly sad"

"Bart, you'd best be brushing your teeth, the bus is due in five" yelled Marge from downstairs

Bart clasped both hands together and begged Lisa to let him use the laptop, but her mind was occupied with other things as she clued in to what Marge had said

"School's in five? Why did she make me sleep this long?" she said, before letting loose another vicious sounding sneeze

"I think she might think you'll be struck down by the Bogey men" Bart remarked, "Now, can I use this or not?"

"What's the rush?" Lisa asked

"I need to let the Krusaderboard forums know what I think of their attitudes. The community there is giving Krusty's new show a hard time because they're fans of the main source material they're mining to fill up the action scenes. They're being kind of purist dweebs about it."

"So you're taking the side of the adaptation?" Lisa asked, "Why not just watch the original source?"

"Because I prefer Krusty's approach, I've seen this happen with old shows mined from the Toku genre before, it's early days, but Krusaders can be so much better if we all got together and told the peeps running the show you can adapt the source material but inject it with original elements to make it stand out better"

"That's very creative of you Bart" said Lisa, "And here I thought you'd just be spamming them with insults, but won't you be labled some sort of an apologist?"

"Lisa, true fans don't have to apologize for anything"

"Oh Bart, I don't think you should be using that term, it can really rile people up"

"All the more reason to inject it into the conversation then"

Marge entered the room, carrying Bart's coat and lunch box in both hands, "C'mon special guy, what is with the hold up? Get to stepping, you'll be late" repeated Marge

"Oh, way to delay me sis" vented a frustrated Bart, "Remind me never to express my righteous causes to you again"

"Mom, why didn't you wake me? I have a test first thing this morning, I can't miss it" Lisa complained

"You think the temperature you were exhibiting last night would earn you a pass with me young Lady? Don't be stubborn Lisa, you're not feeling well, thus you stay in. They'll be plenty of time for tests when you're better. The last test you need is with my patience. I won't argue with you about this"

Lisa's sneezes continued to cause substantial noise as Marge escorted Bart out.

As Bart walked down the stairs, he noticed his father Homer watching the television, which was reporting on the death of Orville ventriloquist Keith Harris

"Oh Orville, you wish you could fly up to the sky, now HE can" Homer said, with a tear in his eye.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

Inside the packed waiting room of the main studios where the _Krusty The Klown_ show emanated from, a teeming pile of aspiring acts, comedians, actors, magicians, stunt-men, were all pacing themselves across the cold and barely air-conditioned corridor. Some were talking to themselves; some were riding Harley Davisons across the corridor and cartwheeling off of the vehicles as they moved along.

Others were testing their stand-up routines on the row of disinterested people who were far too occupied with mentally preparing for their own inevitable audience inside the pitch and audition rooms. Chief among them were Sideshow Bob and Snake, both wearing bowler hats and rather rough looking wool sideburns and mustaches

Amongst the impatient were screen-writers, each submitting their works to the people sitting opposite them. Bob found himself lumbered with one, its writer anxiously elbowing him, trying as best he could to get him to read it.

Bob twiddled through the pages.

"Empty, void of substance" he replied

"You're looking at the blank side of the pages"

"I prefer to call this side of the act the 'snow shift'" said Bob, "An empty canvas is a fresh opportunity, and I'd suggest you make use of that landscape"

Snake had become otherwise engaged in a different conversation with another anxious act

"So, you're like, a satirist who can't put any effort into the satire?"

~"Every time I cut the joke about my 28 year old son being appalled at the Munchkins song playing over a Thatcherite's death, the audience pick themselves up for the applause, and I'm like, don't you dare try that"

"You shut them down before they can give you props?" Bob, who was seated on the other side of the satirist.

"I prefer to label it as 'not giving them a vote', I don't believe in voting" said the Satirist

"Gah, Russell Brand politics. I'm staying, like, far out of reach with you here" Snake replied, and cut off the conversation.

"Do you have our cards ready?" Bob asked Snake

"Yeah" said Snake, taking out two identification cards, forged, and handed one to Bob. It read "Bob Tzachor". Snake's card read "Snake Walther"

"Bob Tzachor? Snake Walther? You're not exactly giving our aliases any range here"

"I'm trying to balance simplicity with that complex jargon man. Goes hand in hand with the attitude I've preparing for our act"

"This is not THE act, this is the subterfuge" said Bob, "When we pitch our concepts for the series, we have to mix it in with several key targets. The demographic, the content, and the budget"

"Kids wallets are full" said Snake, counting on his fingers

"Simplicity in itself"

"I try my best" remarked Snake

"Rows D to E? The producers will see you now" said a kindly voice over the intercom

Bob and Snake got up and approached the door. Snake turned his back to it and put his hands together, forming the shape of a gun.

"What are you doing?" said Bob.

"This goes all the way back to my college days, I'd always storm right in showing as much force as possible. It made anyone that saw take immediate notice. Some, like, even threw money at the sight of me doing this. It might not have been for artistic reasons, but it helped instil confidence in the routine"

"We're trying to show _run_, not show _off_" said Bob.

"Bah" sighed Snake, and placed the fleshly gun to his temple, "triggering" it in perfect timing with the opening of the door. The two stepped inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

Another substitute was on hand for Bart's class. The young Simpson prayed that this particular one hadn't been informed of the homework to be handed in.

It wasn't that he had nothing to give, he did, he had taken a draft that he hadn't exactly proof-read, and it would have quite a hefty amount of spelling errors. He did have an online proof-reader for that, but there was no chance of corresponding with that person at the moment.

He looked over at the empty class desk next to him. He knew Milhouse was out of town on an exchange program, and that meant the Bongo-licensed _Krusty_ comics stored within his desk were ripe for picking by Nelson. He had to secure the desk, and if the substitute wasn't _aware_ of the arrangements of seats, he could get away with securing Milhouse's stash from any prying eyes.

With the exclusion of his own of course.

"Now class, I've been informed you all have some essays to read out to class today" said the substitute.

"Informed? Get real, you're not supposed to read them out, you're just trying to fill the hours up so you can have a stress free day keeping the stables clean, well just wait 'till I get up there, I'll read my whole spiel out, gaffs and all, you want time? I'll _waste _time"

So the students began to express themselves, their homework had proven more of a unique attraction for them. They were to pick a personal project and share what they thought of that interest.

Some took the easy way out, writing short piece profiles of video game characters, complete with barely detailed or identifiable illustrations, and would have to point out what part of the body formed an arm or a head. Some tripped up over their own words even when they were spelt correctly due to nerves acting up. Some repeated sentences, not because they had lost their place, but because they had actually written the sentences twice.

Bart checked his own essay. A good fourteen pages. He took notes of his fellow classmates and their own unremarkable efforts and mentally prepared a plan of action, or rather inaction, working out how long to stall over the course of a minute, trip over a sentence, make sure his posture presented the illusion of careful concentration so as to hypnotize the audience and lull them into a false sense of preparation for the next part of the presentation, only to then reel back and "forget" where he was, eventually forcing him to start all over again, and when he would commence that, he would kick it off in a disinterested and defeatist tone of voice, to signify just how droll and pointless even indulging in passion projects proved to be.

He knew, he had tried a similar essay on a website devoted to blogs on things he was interested in. For some reason, outside of maybe one reviewer, who in the end always turned out to be Milhouse, he just couldn't command that much of an audience in his ideas. It wasn't worth a million hits.

He wanted to associate this with his fading star as a child celebrity, but he wasn't sure anymore if a year or many more had passed since his days as Krusty's sidekick who had kids in his palm with his catchphrase of "I didn't do it".

He thought back to the last time the Simpsons had bought a calendar/planner that was synched up with the present day. Homer always liked to recycle them.

Nevertheless, he had his day planned out. He was going to make this session of class, from morning to lunch break, a chore for anyone listening.

All of that changed as soon as Martin Price presented _his_ piece, entitled _**"Why I think Krusaders is a bad show with the intent of providing bad things"**_

Bart's priorities shifted. This had his undivided attention.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

"You know, I really think I'm going to enjoy these exams" uttered the lecturer in a passive and all too obviously identifiable condescending tone of voice as he relaxed on the park bench and took out a revision manual, skimming through the pages with little care or interest, not really trying his hardest to convey to the viewer of the well-meaning exam tutorial gracing the television screen that he was at all motivated into doing proper revision.

As the jaunty keyboard music echoed through the TV speakers signalling the end of the programme, Lisa let out a hearty sigh. Marge, cleaning some grimy plates in the kitchen, peeked into the living area to check on her daughter.

"How'd you take it dear?"

"Mom, the guy was acting like the target demo for that tutorial was the same age that I am" replied Lisa, "Why did you think I needed to view that?"

"Because I think your illness has something to do with nerves concerning the exam" Marge said, "I don't want you getting into such a state"

"Mom, I rarely get this out of shape, usually the subject matter has to really press my righteous buttons, and it's nothing like that this time" Lisa insisted.

"Mind telling me what the subject is?"

"Social interactions, what percentage of topical debate can be spoken over lunch" Lisa admitted

"Hmm, Lisa, maybe you should have used your teacher's pet standing with your lecturers to maybe give you a different angle to work off from. I don't like to admit this too often, and I know you've tried so many times to break out of this pattern, but you don't seem to ever keep consistent with those kind of circles" Marge admitted.

"And that warrants chickening out of the exam with a forced illness? Mom I can take it, really, I'll just draw on my past experiences" Lisa replied

"With all the friends that started off as intellectual rivals that you couldn't stand, saw as a threat, and wanted to push out of the way or humiliate?" asked Marge

"What about all the boys I've dated?" said Lisa, "And by that, yes, I mean the smart ones"

"There was that one guy you saw when we went under the dome" Marge said

"His family couldn't wait to move once we were beyond that thunderous dome" Lisa replied

"Then I'm afraid we're kind of stuck aren't we? Tell you what, keep watching more revision tutorials and I'll make you an asparagus and carrot Sunday with two scoops of coffee ice cream, and I'll toss in a few indigestion tablets to go with it. Then we can sit down and have some good-old fashioned girl talk, then you can take notes on what comes up the most commonly in conversation, maybe your temperature will have cooled by that point"

"I can just imagine how explaining it to my classmates will go down? Who helped you with this essay Lisa? Your mom?" Lisa sarcastically remarked.

"I'm trying my best to work around this Lisa. Would you like to carry the cool card, or would you like to carry the "A+" card?" Marge asked, "Just be glad I'm not Ms. Hoover, otherwise you'd have earned a report card by now with that lip young lady"

Lisa sneezed hard. Marge frowned and went back to the kitchen to finish up scrubbing.

Maggie waddled over to Lisa, falling a few times over herself, and pointed at the window, Lisa walked over to it and looked out. She gasped as she recognized a pudgy, round and jolly chap walking across a rather busy road picking his nose and looking down at his loose shoe-laces. He suddenly realized he was being spied on and posed like Superman outside the Simpsons house, almost as if he was trying to show off. Or maybe he felt empowered as he commanded attention.

Or maybe he was just an idiot.

Lisa darted over to the front door and opened it, running across the lawn to where the boy was

"Ralph?" she said, almost lost for words, "What on Earth are you doing out of school? It's lunch time, not home time"

"I didn't like the food I was given. The Lunch lady told me I could either eat what was served to us or I could go home for my lunch"

"So you walked out of school just like that? Without permission? Oh Ralph you could get into a lot of trouble for this, you'd best come with me, your dad's on patrol and your mom usually has a line-dancing class to go to in the afternoons"

"Will you know I'm trouble if I walk in?" asked Ralph as Lisa took him by the hand and walked back in doors with him

"I'm not "Taylor" made for "Swift" references like that" remarked Lisa.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

"Thankyou Mr. Tzachor for your suggestions, we'll let you know what we think" said one of the trinity of network executives, two males, one female, with I.D cards listing them as Judd, Doug, and Jackie, had just sat through the show pitch Bob had laid out for the_ Krusaders_ television show.

Snake had missed the whole session, as he had been trying in vain to kick his way through the door as he had discussed earlier, trying to give the judges a sample of his dramatic flare

"Mr. Walther, could you please stop trying to kick your way through the door?" said Jackie

"I do apologize for my friend, he insists on it" said Bob, "If you may allow, I can put this in the script of our first show, he can have a walk-on role in the episode as '_cop who cracks open door_'"

"Now that there is grounds for a show all its own" said Doug, inspired by Snake's efforts, "Can we call it '_One Door Closes'_?"

"Closing the book on that chapter" replied Judd.

"Should I see myself out then?" said Bob.

"No, just pout and mumble to yourself audibly in the corner there, this is what we like to label a 'turnaround' session'" the executive to the right of Bob explained

"Namely, we turn around and give your pitch five of our precious minutes" revealed Jackie.

"We've stepped it up to five _MINUTES_?" said the male opposite her

"His pitch lasted half an hour, we owe him our full attention" she insisted.

The three spun their chairs around while Bob did as he was asked and sat down in the corner

"Yes, huddle together, chat amongst yourselves, for unbeknownst to you, you are placing the latest half-hearted efforts of a man not one adult but a father long since passed could love into my playful hands. And, like putty, I shall mold it in a more preferable image, something with substance, spice, style, things he knows nothing about. And he will never know it was my hand that fed him, and then, when the time is right, I shall step forward and take the credit. Yes, credit, and by that I mean ALL the cards. Hahahahahaahahaha"

The executives were wise in advising him to gloat.

"Sounds like he has a razor sharp axe to grind" said the female executive, offering her friends a cupcake and a sandwich

"Thanks, we've had to stomach everything except a good meal today" said one of the network executives in despair as another act was tossed out. "Cowell got hypnotized by a dog a weekend ago; we've got to come up with something less mundane, yet still guarantee us a strong percentage of shared disgust on the internet"

"How about we try to break something?" asked Doug

"How long have you been in showbiz? Two minutes?" snapped back Judd. "We break people all the time. We break them in, on more than one occasion we break them _out, _and whenever it's by design or by throwing things together, we're always arranging a picture puzzle without the edge pieces"

"But maybe that there is the thing, the edge doesn't lie in arranging the parts; it's the effort in arranging the parts that's compelling. I say we make this journey difficult for the guy. And televise it"

"Televise it?" asked Judd.

"We know one of our demographics are the butt-hurt arrogant types that think they know how to run the show better than we do. We read it on the forums all of the time; we need something that caters to their niche interests in our disposable escapism, something to focus on. Someone to target other than us" explained Jackie

"Of course" realized Doug, "A showrunner always takes the heat away from the people who truly earn the scorn…oh, but I still reckon we should have a piece of that pie, I don't like being left out of infantile blog venting"

"Don't worry, we'll dick about with the scheduling, we'll give it a summer hiatus, but kick it off in the spring, and we'll make it last 'till September. And we'll air it on all the international versions of Krusty's show. That should people talking about us, but we'll be blamed for typical network sins, nothing to do with the creative. We'll hang the guy out to dry and we'll capture every precious moment of it for our prime time hours. HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA"

"Excuse me, but were just trying to out-chortle me?" interrupted Bob

"Don't think about it Mr. Tzachor, we're just high on our own giddy genius. How do you feel about us charting your development of the show on television as part of a reality series?" asked Judd, "We'll call it _Creative Meddling"_

"No, I much prefer it to be _Creative Mending. _I'm here to save the show, not fix what's not broken_"_

Just as Bob said that,Snake finally managed to kick his way through the door, sending it toppling to the floor.

"Ta da" he uttered.

"I still want a show based off what just happened. Call it, '_Fix This Damn Door'" _said Judd

"_Spider-Man 3_ references will never, at any point, feel relevant" replied Doug


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

Martin felt quite accomplished as he approached his locker. He had managed to convey strong points about his personal project to the class, managed to make the first half of the day drift by without stumbling on words and by having precision perfect sentence structure. He had not only seized the day, but he had made the day for many of the students, who came up to him and told him in no uncertain terms they would now be watching Krusaders with more critical caps on.

So it should have come to no surprise when he opened the locker that he found the first critic of his work waiting in the wings for him

"Hello Martin" Bart said in a haunted and brooding tone of voice

"What are you doing in my locker?" Martin said, before noticing something, "Wait, have you been wedged on my coat hanger?"

"Yeah" Bart said, "Nelson caught wind I wanted to confront you after class, and he knew the combination from that time you co-conspired with him and the other bullies to set off that stink bomb, so he stuffed me in here"

"I figured you'd probably want to confront me after I had less than stellar things to say about Krusaders" said Martin, helping Bart off of the coat hanger.

Bart rubbed the back of his rather sore butt delicately before taking in a deep breath and carrying on with the conversation

"Why'd you do it Martin? Krusty's just trying to give us some escapism with a lot of energy put into it. That kind of programming hasn't been popular in years anyway"

"And it ought to be, don't you see that Bart?" Martin replied in his defense. "The writing on the show stinks, the editing stinks. You're obviously one of the more easily pleased types, but some of us who are capable of editing and tightening all manners of creative bolts have set ourselves to a higher standard"

"It's just fun television. It caters exactly to kid's needs"

"Kids don't like to be _treated _like kids in this century, don't you get that? We want to belong in an older and more insightful world, what do you think someone is going to make of that evil artificial intelligence from last weekend that said to the team "_I don't __plan__, I __attack__?",_ what kind of lousy writing is that? Machine adversaries that don't form a strategy and just throw their weight around? It's horrible. And then there are the episodes where the Krusaders become pirates, complete with a sea-ferrying vessel that come with cannons and full on black mast. They don't even call them that on screen. Why do you suppose that is? Because the network said at a fan expo that pirates were a negative stereotype and they couldn't emphasize it in case they inspired viewers. Its political correctness gone nuts" Martin rambled

"Listen Martin, if you were a real…" Bart began

"Don't say it, don't say 'real fan'" Martin angrily responded, "That's a dry enough well to go to as it is" Martin replied, "There are several ways one can remain a true fan and still have wiggle room to criticize a show for treating its core audience like children"

"But it IS a kids show" Bart said, "And what I was GOING to say, is that, if you were a real _man_, you'd take that essay right to the network and read them this righteous riot act"

"Really? You think my essay was worth it then?" Martin said.

"No. I don't, I just want actual adults telling you the exact same thing I'm telling you. That you're in a minority, and you can't change the way they operate"

"You're right Bart; I DO want my voice regarding this show to be heard beyond the walls of this elementary echo-chamber. But not without a proof-of-concept that I am confident will change the way they operate"

"What proof-of-concept?" asked Bart.

"Stay a while after school and we'll show you in the film club" said Martin.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT **

* * *

Marge wasn't one to put up with excuses as she vented about Ralph's predicament over the phone to Principal Skinner.

"I don't care _what_ other options you had other than cream syrup and fries that seemed imported from Britain only they left _in_ the newspaper, that poor lad has very particular tastes and you were willing to let him walk out of school to satisfy them not knowing if his parents were there or not. Now I'm taking him back down to school as soon as he finishes his lunch with my daughter and I expect you to make arrangements with the Wiggums the next day in an emergency session so this kind of thing never happens again"

Marge slammed the phone down hard and walked over to the dining room

"Ralph, finish that oatmeal and toast and get ready to go back to school. Lisa, if you want an opportunity to pin down something concrete on your exams, ignite a conversation with him"

Lisa stared at the opposite end of the table anxiously as Ralph played about with Maggie's farm house toys, driving the small tractor towards Maggie's outstretched hands, before turning it counter clockwise and rolling it out of her grasp again. Each time he repeated this motion, he would reach out with his finger and tickled her a bit beneath her chin, which kept her happy and amused while he continued to make use of the toy.

Lisa placed a hand on her cheek and stirred the creamier portions of the asparagus sundae with the tip of her spoon, clockwise, counter clockwise, keeping her beady eyes trained on Ralph as he had yet to lift a finger or even a fork on his plate of fries that Marge had given him

"My veggies are freezer" said Ralph.

"FreeZING" Lisa replied

"I get it" said Ralph

"Get what?" Lisa asked

"The joke"

"What joke?"

"The Zinger"

"It wasn't a joke"

"FreeZING" said Ralph, "That's a joke right?"

"Freezing is…oh silly, you're thinking of a ZINGER aren't you?" Lisa said, sort of hysterically stuttering as the prospect of exchanging social banter with Ralph for anything other than five minutes, "No, it's nothing like that"

"Tell me another joke" said Ralph

"I think if I do Ralph, there's a good chance I'll be living through all those post-credit scenes of the _Vicar of Dibely_ where I'm telling you all these punch lines and you'd just question the outcome of them all"

Ralph giggled, "Another"

"I didn't tell a single joke"

"Mommy says all comedians never tell jokes, only the truth"

"Yeah, I suppose they do"

"They also tell sad stories. Don't look sad Lisa" said Ralph

"Who me? I'm fine" Lisa replied

"Are not" said Ralph, placing a fry in his mouth and then taking it out again, then inserting it back in his mouth.

"Are too" said Lisa

"Are not" said Ralph again, putting the fry back in his mouth

"Are too" repeated Lisa.

"I can see it in your eyes" said Ralph

"I can see into your mouth, do you mind chewing that with it _shut_ sometime?"

Ralph giggled again

"Again, no joke"

"Just the truth" said Ralph, "I like that. Usually all dad talks about is who he put in jail or shot, sometimes he talks about the holes he puts in people"

"Ralph, I'm eating"

"But that's what he talks about. He's a lawyer man" said Ralph

"You mean a law man silly" said Lisa

"I told him to stop once, but he says that's all anyone really talks about over dinner when they get older"

"What do they talk about?" Lisa said, beginning to sense an opportunity in the air to nail her exams.

"Dead stuff" said Ralph

"_Death? Darn, I'm not putting that down, I'll demoralize the whole class_" Lisa thought to herself, then started to feel guilty over being such a drag over lunch

"Say Ralph, do you want to hear a joke? Like a proper one?" Lisa said, "I'm not really a comedian, but you could do with cheering up"

"More truth? I like it when people are honest"

"Yeah, I can be truthful, how about you? You want to tell me any jokes?"

"You have nice eyes now"

"That's a compliment, not a joke" said Lisa

"And your smile is infested" said Ralph. Lisa giggled at his stab at pronouncing 'infectious'

"Careful now, I wouldn't want you to be sarcastic next. You might reduce me to the wrong kind of tears" said Lisa

"I am being sarcastic" said Ralph. "The boys told me to say this to girls; they said they'd give me punch"

Lisa groaned. "That's a punch, and I'd caution you, I'm quick to temper"

Maggie reached out for her train; Ralph gave it to her this time

"This is me giving you an irony" said Ralph

"An IMPRESSION" said an aggravated Lisa

The two stared at each other, Ralph beamed at her with an all-knowing and more informed gaze. Lisa sensed that she had fallen for something.

"I'm just being silly Lisa. I think clowns are funny, I'm being one"

"You don't have to be a clown around me Ralph"

"But I have to be, I'm sad"

Lisa's smile quickly dropped, she got off of her seat and walked over to him, she held his hand tight.

"Why are you sad Ralph?" she said.

Marge suddenly came through the door with a short coat

"Lisa, I hope you don't mind Ralph wearing one of your coats on the way back to school" she said

"Can I come with him Mom?" said Lisa

"Well, I don't want him catching your cold" said Marge

"I can catch flies Mrs. Simpson" said Ralph, sticking out his tounge.

"Well if they're not bad for your stomach, I don't suppose a sniffle will sizzle you either, ok little lady, get your new coat on and we'll get to stepping" said Marge.

"Lisa, about your eyes, that was me being serial" said Ralph

"_Serious_" Lisa said, kissing him on the cheek

After Marge placed Maggie in the mobile buggy, Lisa, Ralph, and Marge stepped outside and began the short trek back to school.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

Krusty lit up another cigarette as the interviewer sat down in a most crowded corner of the _Krusaders_ dressing room. All around them were cast members, male and female, loosely chatting, trying to fit into their costumes, or playing with the crossword puzzles in newspapers lying about which dated back days.

To the right of them, several of the monster outfits were still being ironed by a frantic wardrobe handler, who couldn't help but take one of Krusty's cigarettes from the packet when he wasn't looking as he tried to adjust a false eyelash in his make-up. Whenever she smoked one, tiny traces of ash would fall on the outfits. Nevertheless, she proceeded to keep ironing them anyway.

Making the most out of their predicament, the interview for Springfield's "_Tinsel in Town_" entertainment segment began.

"So can you tell us anything about the writing process on this show?" asked the reporter.

"Why would we start with that?" Krusty asked

"It's the first question I see sticky-taped to my sheet" the Reporter replied.

Krusty bent over and grabbed the sheet and, in spite of his illiteracy, he was able to at least scan the style of the hand writing very closely. He got up and walked over to where Sideshow Mel was situated

"What the hell is this?" said Krusty, a distinct ire in his tone, "This question's in YOUR writing"

"Krusty, please do not interrupt me when I'm practicing my grunts, I want each yell in the audio booth to reflect inner most strife and a feeling of weight as the urgency of keeping the world safe falls on my weary laurels"

"Audio recording is usually where you rest on your laurel reed-end" said Krusty, "C'mon; nobody is going into this show thinking about the script"

"This time is a bit of an exception. We have had a pinnacle break-through in quality control with this latest production of something I feel has been lacking in regards to substance. Now we can add that, and maybe later we can try style too"

"Why do you want MY opinion on a script though? I think mainly with '_Friends_' logic. Sell it to me like it's '_the one where…_' and I wing it the rest of the way. I can't read as you all know"

"That's just it though Krusty, this script doesn't give you any lines, just grunts, and exclamations of 'oh man', and 'no way' "

"Someone's gone out of their way to make my job easier? That never happens with a lead in a production, at least not in this town. I ought to thank the chump co-ordinating this stuff, what's his name?"

"Snake Walther I believe", he came in with our new showrunner, Bob Tzachor"

"Wow, this is a turn out Krusty, you almost never pay attention to a writer's credit on your programmes" said the reporter, "Being the inquisitive type, would you happen to tell me what that is?"

"Not exactly a trade secret in that nobody really cares about writers except the fans"

A thought occurred to Krusty which worried him slightly

"…oh no, he's not a fan boy IS he? Him OR this Tzachor guy?"

"No, he's rarely ever watched the show" said Mel, "At least according to the executives who hired him" Mel replied

"So someone completely ignorant of this show is telling us how to handle it now?"

"No so much a step down, nobody prior to them knew how to sandwich everything together either" said Mel

"So where are they? I'd love to talk shop with them" said Krusty

"What about my interview?" asked the reporter

"Turn it into a fashion piece or something" said Krusty, pointing at the cramped and poorly ironed multi-coloured outfits, "Spin gold out of _tha_t murky looking rainbow"

"I believe they're filming some documentary about what goes into creating the show, cameras should be trained on him as we speak"

"What makes them so special? We could use that budget for the show" argued Krusty

"They are the genesis, we are but the transmitter" Mel replied

"Well I'm going to elbow in on _their _transmission" said Krusty, "A guest appearance from this funny mug ought to boost any ratings they miraculously generate"


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

At Springfield Elementary, lunch time was long over and the classes were now in the home stretch, soon the final bell would ring and the student body would be homeward bound.

Electing to give herself a bit of a break, and because it was a Friday afternoon, Ms. Hoover had decided to treat the class to a vintage educational movie _Dot and the Kangaroo._

Upon hearing what movie was being played from the students flooding into the class room, Ralph froze up and refused to budge from the hall.

"What's wrong Ralph?" Lisa asked, "I love the Dot films, what's so harmful about them"

Ralph repeatedly shook his head, "This is the sad one. The Kangaroo leaves her at the end, she calls and calls to him, but he doesn't stay. He doesn't care"

"Oh Ralph" Lisa said, "The film's trying to teach you about letting things go"

"I don't want to give anything I like up" said Ralph

"Sometimes that's just the cards you're dealt with. You can't halt the way people act when they're challenged emotionally; you have to let them go with your gut. Besides, the Kangaroo does come back to her; I've seen the other movies"

"Yeah, but they're not as good" said Ralph

"I didn't know you had standards for these sorts of disposable kid flicks" said Lisa, "I'm impressed"

"We shouldn't be taught sad things all the time" said Ralph, "Sometimes all Dad talks about is how people he's put little holes in don't get up anymore, and it makes him feel bad about his job"

"I guess in your dad's line of work, tragedies are a constant consequence of trying to keep things together" said Lisa. "Tell you what, when it gets to the sad part, I'll ask Ms. Hoover to let you out of the class, how about that?"

"Will you be staying?" said Ralph

"Of course, it takes a truly bratty brother, a shallow father, and immoral meat-eaters to get tears out of _these_ sockets" said Lisa, "But I'd still feel pretty bad if you couldn't sit through something that could stir the soul"

"Stir the soul? Like soup? Because I like soup. Sometimes I get letters in mine. I like arranging the letters into words nobody but me can pronounce. Mom says it's because they don't exist, but they do because otherwise how could I think them up?"

"Ralph, that's possibly the most philosophical thing I've ever heard you utter" said Lisa

"Want me to tell you about all the words I've made?"

"Tell you what, sit with me through the whole film and tell me them"

"Ms. Hoover doesn't allow talking in class" said Ralph

"Then write them down and I'll read it" said Lisa

"Ok. But you have to say nothing but my words after class" said Ralph.

Lisa giggled, "Not sure how that'll make me look, but what the heck, I don't exactly climb the social ladder too highly as it is" she admitted.

"Lisa…will you be like the kangaroo with me one day?" said Ralph

"I'm more like something else you find in the bush…a boomerang. Set me loose, and I'll always turn around and come right back eventually"

"Boomerangs kill people" said Ralph, "I saw them talk about it on _Sherlock_ once. If you killed me, my dad would have to arrest you"

"I live to be haunted by you Wiggums" said Lisa, giving Ralph a hug, "Not that I will ever really mind that"

"Are we ghosts now?" asked Ralph


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

* * *

Bob couldn't believe how much frustration could come out of a simple thing as video formatting

He was the principle editor, and yet he had to correspond with an evaluator, via continuous e-mail, on what format to work with.

"Back in the days I worked on Krusty's shows in post-production, I knew what had to go in, and what had to go out" said Bob, lighting up a cigarette, "But now I'm being told not to upscale the quality in THAT specific frame rate, or THIS specific number of bytes. It has to be Samsung quality 1080 or nothing. I'm told the source files I'm working with operate at 5000 frames per second, which means I have to convert the files to 1080. All this for one moment where a monster kicks Mel square in the bladder"

To top it all off, this process was not pulling in the ratings for the reality show intended to follow his exploits as he put the show together

Outside, Krusty anxiously awaited an opportunity to enter the room once the decision came to cut for a break so he could talk shop with the people that seemed heaven sent to save his hellish production.

All eyes were soundly trained on Bob. He couldn't possibly fail anyone now. 'Least of all himself.

So he did what was asked of him by the evaluator. Even though it would cost him another ten or twenty minutes. The quality had to be impeccable.

Snake wondered if his script could pass mustard. He had made so many spelling errors, and Bob had to play beta reader. He was lucky this wasn't a prolific creative writing website where some critic would leave these sorts of notes in the actual reviews for all to see. Snake imagined Bob assuring him these sorts of critiques would be good for him and help him improve.

Bob liked the tone of Snake's script. "This script is witty, engaging, to the point, something rather unexpected of you my friend, almost out-of-character" he assessed, "Perhaps the lesson here is that which seems unfamiliar to those who expect someone to be on-point can make them glimpse the beauty behind the ugly underneath"

"I'm not that vain bro" said Snake

"Mr. Snake, do you really have to keep that gun trained on us the whole time?" said Doug, who was producing the segment for the show

"I'm holding up reality. It's a concept piece" said Snake

"What if actual shots come out of it?" said Doug, shivering.

"I'm making a bullet point?" replied Snake

"Finished" Bob said, and sent the edit to the evaluator via e-mail. Within a few minutes, he would know if his work had paid off.

Thirty minutes passed, Krusty had given up trying to get in the room and had gone to prepare for the show. Bob got an e-mail back

"He's telling me to switch to 720 FPS again" yelled Bob in dismay, "He says the software I'm working with can't render things properly. He's routinely flip-flopping almost on purpose"

"I guess our show's gonna have a juicy hook, first day on the job, and no job can be done" said Doug

"Unless…we get a feel for what the audience wants. Let's unofficially leak the episode an hour before broadcast. Let the kids decide if the quality is appropriate enough"

"We can't just leak something that's all set to go out of post. They don't even have ad breaks; can't you give at least one watermark a go?"

"Then they'd know it was an unofficial leak like that British twaddle a year ago" Bob countered, "No, if we do this, they will speculate whether or not it was an official leak, and their reactions will spread wide across the internet, and keep your station firmly in line for endless amount of conversation and thus plenty of promotion"

"You do realize this admission is all on tape don't you?" said Doug, pointing to the cameras

"Save the reality show for the fall. Let them speculate over summer, and pull back the curtain and give them the shivers over winter knowing they fell right into our bubble"

"We'll make a killing" said Snake, raising the gun in the air and setting off one shot in celebration.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

* * *

As the final bell rang and the children of _Springfield Elementary_ filed out on their way to their homes, Lisa waited outside for her brother. Bart arrived with Milhouse in tow.

"Ready to go Bart?" Lisa asked

"Can't. Martin needs me to look in on something at their after-school club" Bart replied, "I'm not keeping him waiting, this has something to do with Krusty's show"

"Well, try to make it back before _Krusaders_ comes on will you?" replied Lisa.

"Hi Lisa" Milhouse said, waving anxiously at the girl he was known to have unappreciated affection for. "How's tricks?"

"I've picked up a few new things while all you sing is the same song Van Houten" said Lisa, "I have Ralph to thank for that"

"Ralph? Yeah right Lisa, he probably still thinks writing a movie title on the back of a blank DVD means the film is immediately burned onto it" Milhouse coldly jested. Lisa quickly jabbed him in the elbow.

"Come along Ralph, I'll walk you home" Lisa said as Ralph came out of the building.

"I have her diseases" said Ralph to Milhouse, a Cheshire grin etched across his face, followed by a herculean sneeze.

"Come on Milhouse, Martin's waiting for us" said Bart, and the two walked back into the school

Martin greeted them as soon as they entered the main hall; he led them to the after-school club meeting in the nearby I.T room.

There, Bart was greeted to a flurry of activity. It was a veritable think tank, a network of nerdom at work and at play, and sometimes there was a marriage of the two.

"This is where the Krusaders come under what we would label the "Kritical Eye", with an emphasis on "K"…'Kay?" asked Martin.

"I can think of one other letter attached to "ay" in regards to this but I'll reserve judgement 'till later" said Bart, "What is it with you fans? Why can't you just enjoy the show as it is?"

"Then where would the creativity go?" said Martin, "All that imagination does'nt have to be confined to our heads until adulthood"

"You won't believe what '_Crap Camp Krusaders Say'_ Tumblr got up to today. He screen-capped our entire conversation with the show's executive producer on the forums before the thread got purged" said one of Martin's friends, "AND he added a few homophobic slurs beneath each of our responses"

"When is he ever going to get the inkling we are CAMP KRUSADERS, as in a FACTION, not something in regards to a sexuality preference" scoffed Martin.

"Martin? Would you like to see the new rushes from our fan-editing project?" said another of the geeks.

"Alright" Milhouse said, "This one had better be approved this time on that editing website we go to"

"Ok, show me what's going on" said Bart

To his surprise, he found that he had edited together a more coherent and enjoyable yarn out of an average episode of _Krusaders_ by tightening up the pacing, shortening the dialogue, and adding more of a custom rock soundtrack. Elements of the Japanese soundtrack from the source show used for the monster fights even made it in.

"Wow, you went all that trouble just to prove the show could be so much more" said Bart, "This goes above and beyond what we're taught in regular editing courses during normal school hours. I'm still learning how to transition music in just plain old Windows Movie Maker"

"If you want improvements, you have to make time for them, just as we always make time for the show. If it doesn't satisfy us, we feel obligated to make it satisfactory"

"All this time I thought making fun of the show or mocking it made you all less of a fan somewhat, but when you pour heart and energy into this product, it makes me appreciate the sheer magnitude of fandom all the more. You and your sort aren't half bad after all Martin"

"Martin?" said one of the nerds, "We have an incoming post on the multimedia section of our _Krusaders_ forums. Today's episode has been leaked"

"Really? That's awesome" said Martin, salivating at the prospect of a preview

"There it is. In…1080 P? But the source material only has 5000 frames per second, this has 8000, it'll look weird"

"Well I'm not taking a gander at anything above its station in terms of coherent screen quality" said Martin

Bart shook his head, "Talk about turning out to be a bunch of entitled losers on the technicality of a technical nit-pick. I don't know about you, but I aim to download this episode myself back home, I'm out of this coo-coo farm"


	13. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE  
**

* * *

Bob looked at the final rushes and gave himself a well-earned smile of satisfaction. He picked up his equipment and walked out of the studio. It was almost as if he was walking out of the penitentiary. The sun's radiant glow basked his day-glow yellow face with its radiance.

Snake followed him out, still setting off shots from his gun.

"Snake, my brother-in-literal-arms, you know as well as I do they're going to call the cops over this little piece of theater you pulled" Bob cautioned.

"Uh huh" replied Snake, "But you don't care all that much right?"

"You can read me so eloquently. Yes Snake, I don't really feel the need to go through my usual 'to-do-in' list, which normally begins and ends with one eternally young and bothersome individual. No, you see, I have been able to exact a small measure of gratitude from him without him even being aware of my hand. This lofty little lout of a lad adores Krusty, he adores everything to do with him, he'll defend his code of non-existent honor to the hilt, and he'll devour every inch of merchandise and franchising available from him. _Krusaders_ is no different. If I have managed to etch a pleasurable grin on that lad's face, then when next we cross paths I will admit to the felony. He will stand there, perplexed, astonished, he'll feel awkward; knowing his most persistent of adversaries besides school work was involved in something that usually wraps him up in a bundle of elegant adulation. Krusty, him, I, we are forever entwined in hate as well as love. It is a dance ripe with the most ironic of movements, and one that will further slip into his mind. It might even make him enjoy Krusty _less_. Now isn't that the best way to give the number one fan his number one bullet?"

As the police cars swarmed them, Bob and Snake raised their hands, waiting to be handcuffed.

"I got to write a pretty picture" Snake said, "Not every day you get to live out a dream like that"

"Dreams are for the miracle seekers. _Life_ is for the likes of you and me…we, the miracle _builders_" said Bob in a triumph tone as he and Snake were escorted into the back of the police wagon and ridden it out of the studio and back towards the police station.

Back home, Bart Simpson settled down, switched on his kaptop, grabbed some cereal from the kitchen, and began downloading the workprint copy of the latest edition of his favorite show, little suspecting he was about to take to the floor and engage in a most ironic waltz

**THE END**


End file.
